


Purple Shadows

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [5]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: "Knife" Play, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Fake Blood, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘You wanna pick first, Chris?’ he says when he gets the end of the line. Chris points the length of pipe he’s holding straight at Ricky. The rest of the lab coats laugh.‘Where you gonna take him?’ the guy asks.‘The morgue,’ Chris answers with a crooked smile. Another sinister laugh from the group. Ricky’s starting to feel an acidic burn low in his stomach. The guy obviously has a hard on for him. And Ricky wasn’t sure he wanted to be on his own with him.In a haunted hospital, Ricky’s looking for a thrill and Chris is going to give him more of one than he’s expecting.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Purple Shadows

‘Initial here, here and here and sign at the bottom,’ says a guy handing Ricky a clipboard and a pen. 

‘What is it?’ Ricky asks, flicking the pages.

‘A waiver,’ the guy grunts and moves down the line. There’s 10 of them, lined up against the minibus that had driven them 40 minutes out of town. Now they’re standing outside an abandoned hospital, shivering in backless gowns. Ricky very much hopes the stains on his are fake. At least they’ve been allowed to keep their shoes and underwear. 

There’s a half-dozen people stood around, dressed in equally stained lab coats. The one with green hair is still handing out waivers, so Ricky turns his attention to the form. He doesn’t bother to read it, scrawling his initials against each tab. Despite the gross gown, he’s not worried. He’s been on a haunt before. He’d signed up for this one because the picture on the website was funny and a hospital theme is kind of creative, he guesses. Besides he’d needed some halloweeny shit for his channel. 

‘You done?’ asks one of the other guys. Chris; he’d introduced himself on the drive out. Ricky thinks he might be good-looking when he doesn’t have fake blood between his teeth. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, giving up the clipboard.

‘I like this, dude,’ Chris says, lightly flicking the tattoo on Ricky’s throat making him flinch. 

‘Thanks,’ Ricky snorts, corner of his mouth twisting up. 

‘Chris, if he’s done cuff him,’ calls one of the other guys. Ricky holds his hands out but Chris shakes his head, smirking, and reaches to turn him by the shoulder, pushing him up against the bus. His hands are hot on Ricky’s wrists, lacing a cable tie around them and pulling it tight. Chris pulls a bag over his head. With a hand tight on his shoulder, Chris pulls him away from the van. Ricky can hear the muffled conversation as the rest of the group is lined up beside him. Chris has yet to let go of his shoulder. 

‘Alright! Move!’ Chris barks from behind Ricky, hand tightening in the thin fabric of the gown and pushes him to start walking. Ricky stumbles forward, hearing the sound of his footsteps change as they enter the building. 

‘You nervous, buddy?’ Chris murmurs, grip on Ricky tightening as he stumbles again. 

‘Fuck no,’ Ricky says and Chris laughs. 

‘Let’s see what we can do about that, huh?’ he says, and Ricky can hear him run something metallic sounding against the wall. He feels his stomach twitch inwards. _Shit_. He hadn’t even realised he’s been holding something. Chris pulls him into another turn and finally to a stop. 

The bag gets pulled off his head as Chris pushes him to his knees. The floor is concrete and Ricky can feel the water on it seeping through the fabric covering his knees. Ricky blinks in the glare of the light that’s trained directly at his face. A person is shoved down either side of him. Someone is crying. Ricky rolls his eyes and one of the lab coats grabs his by the collar of the gown and shines a torch directly in his eyes. 

‘Dude,’ Chris grunts from out of sight and Ricky feels the guy drop him, knees stinging and eyes watering. Ricky blinks the shadow off his retina. 

‘Right, you sick fucks,’ says the guy with green hair, shining his torch on each of them in turn, ‘—now it’s time for your _personal_ treatment.’ He’s holding an aluminium bat and as he prowls along the line he pokes and caresses people here and there. He jabs it so hard into Ricky’s shoulder he gets knocked back to his heels. Green-hair guy snorts. 

‘You wanna pick first, Chris?’ he says when he gets the end of the line. Chris points the length of pipe he’s holding straight at Ricky. The rest of the lab coats laugh. 

‘Where you gonna take him?’ the guy asks. 

‘The morgue,’ Chris answers with a crooked smile. Another sinister laugh from the group. Ricky’s starting to feel an acidic burn low in his stomach. The guy obviously has a hard on for him. And Ricky wasn’t sure he wanted to be on his own with him. But Chris gets him up, shoving the hood over his head again and drags him out of the room. 

‘So this place is haunted, right?’ Ricky says as they proceed clumsily down another set of steps. He doesn’t really give a fuck, but anything to relieve the silence, that isn’t Chris’ exciting breathing or the distant dripping he can just about hear, would be welcome. 

‘Sure,’ Chris says, ‘it was a Sanatorium in the 50s. You like ghost stories, Ricky?’ 

‘Not really,’ Ricky snorts and Chris goes quiet again. ‘How much do they pay you for doing this shit?’ He asks, genuinely curious.

‘Better than Starbucks,’ Chris says, voice amused, ‘but I don’t do it for the money, Ricky. I do it because I like fucking with people.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Ricky says, amused too, ‘you gonna fuck me up?’ 

‘I don’t about fuck you _up_ ,’ Chris mutters and Ricky feels an unexpected thrill of heat. Did he mean…? _Could he_ do _that?_

Chris bangs through two sets of doors, setting Ricky’s pulse jumping, and pulls off the cloth covering Ricky's head. 

‘ _Oh_ , shit,’ he says, delighted. He can see why Chris had called it the morgue. It's a dimly-lit, windowless, bare-brick room with two rows of metal gurneys lined up, complete with corpses covered in bloody sheets. 

‘Yesterday’s graduating class,’ Chris says, pushing him forward by the shoulder, towards an empty gurney, ‘and this one, right here, is for you— when I’m done with you.’ Ricky snorts again. He’s waiting for one of the corpses to pop up but Chris pulls him into another room instead. Chris pushes Ricky forward, letting go of his arm to flick on the light. Ricky yelps as several figures are suddenly illuminated and Chris laughs at him. The manikin nearest is dressed in bloody scrubs, while the two further back look like a pair of nurses from _Silent Hill_. 

‘Come on,’ Chris says, pushing him towards the table that’s set-up in the middle, a tray of rusty-looking medical instruments to the left and an old fashioned operating light that was probably an antique. 

‘Now I have to perform the autopsy,’ Chris says. 

‘Dude, I’m not dead,’ Ricky says, feeling vaguely panicked. The manikins are making him edgy and Chris’ hands on his wrists are sending sparks across his skin. 

‘You sure about that?’ he says. Ricky can feel him cut the cable ties with a knife he didn’t know he had. Ricky turns around to face him quickly. Chris gives his lopsided smile. 

‘Now you need to take this off,’ he says indicating the gown, ‘—all of it.’

‘The website said—’ Ricky starts, feeling his skin flush with something that definitely isn’t fear. But, even if he’s playing a part, this guy is sketchy as all Hell and definitely has a knife. 

‘You signed the waiver, buddy,’ Chris says, pointing the knife in his hand at him, ‘and did you really think I was going to stay on script?’ For a moment, Ricky hesitates wondering what his chances would be if he just took off running now. But Chris is between him and the door. 

‘Fuck it,’ he mutters, reaching up to yank the gown over his head. With only a slight pause, he pulls his underwear down, bending to pull off his shoes and step out of his underwear. It’s cold and he can feel the fine hairs on his body lifting as Chris runs his eyes over him. His mouth curves as his eyes move down to his cock. Ricky can’t imagine it’s particularly impressive at this temperature but Chris doesn’t comment. 

‘On the table,’ he says, nodding at it and Ricky climbs up awkwardly. The metal surface is freezing against his bare skin. As he lays down flat on his back, Chris paces, the knife still in his hand, considering. Then he approaches the table and to Ricky’s shock he gets up as well, swinging a leg over him so he’s astride his waist. His clothes are cold and it makes Ricky squirm with discomfort until Chris puts a warm hand on his chest. It’s such a relief Ricky almost groans. 

‘First I have to make the primary incision,’ he says, bringing back the knife. Ricky goes rigid until he realises he’s now holding a huge plastic hunting knife that looks like it came in a pack with a _ghostface_ mask. He runs the blunt blade down Ricky’s sternum, making him squirm more. He must be holding a squib as well because as he “cuts” blood starts to drip down the knife onto Ricky’s chest. Ricky squirms more. The fake blood is cold as well and feels disgustingly tacky on his skin. 

Chris settles more of his weight on him, now using the knife to slice at Ricky’s ribs making him so ticklish it’s almost unbearable. 

Honestly, Ricky’s glad of the distraction. Chris’ body heat has started to seep through his clothes onto Ricky’s skin and the seam of his jeans is rubbing just perfectly against his cock as Chris leans over him to press the sticky blade into his cheek. Ricky turns his face not looking at him as Chris digs in the plastic of the knife. He can feel himself flushing. 

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Chris says, suddenly sitting up. For a moment, Ricky’s not sure what’s happened and then he realises Chris must have felt his now much more noticeable cock. But Chris doesn’t get up. He just leans back enough to look down the length of Ricky’s body. 

‘Shit, sorry dude,’ he says, but he doesn’t look very sorry as he traces a hand down Ricky’s stomach. ‘Guess you are a sick fuck,’ he says, grinning, ‘what is it? The blood?’ 

‘It’s not—’ Ricky mumbles, feel himself flushing, ‘you’re fucking sitting on me.’ Chris grins. Ricky can feel the blush from his face creeping down his throat and across his chest. Chris doesn’t remove his hand. 

‘Fuck, man,’ Chris says. He looks up, glancing around checking, then back to Ricky. He sucks at one of the studs in his lip then he shrugs, ‘you wanna fuck around a bit?’

‘Yeah,’ Ricky hears his mouth say and Chris smirks. Keeping his hand on Ricky’s stomach, he drops the knife and pops the button on his jeans. He pulls at his clothes until he can get his dick out, slicking his hand down the length smearing it in the fake blood. 

‘You like that?’ he says, jerking himself, as he lets his eyes drop to Ricky’s cock again, ‘certainly looks like you do.’ 

Ricky nods. _Fuck it_. Chris is hot and clearly he’s into it. Plus the situation is so fucking wild Ricky’s not certain that they didn’t just straight-up drug them on the bus and this is all a trip. Chris shifts a bit, leaning forward so he can get his cock lined-up against Ricky’s, smudging more fake blood from Ricky’s chest on both of them. Ricky makes a soft noise when Chris’ fingertips brush him for the first time. This isn’t exactly how he’d imagined the first time someone other than himself touching his cock in more than a year would go. 

‘Yeah?’ Chris says, eyes on his face.

‘It’s good,’ Ricky mumbles, not sure what else to say. But Chris seems satisfied, leaning forward on one forearm and starting to roll his hips. _Sweet fuck_. Ricky can feel his toes curling as Chris’ cock strokes against his, slick with sticky fake blood and tight in the circle of Chris’ fist. Ricky gasp. He’s so overstimulated from the bizarre set-up and sensory overload of Chris’ hot, heavy body pressing him against the icy metal of the table. He swallows, trying not to lose his shit before Chris can really get going. 

Chris is down on his forearm now so they’re almost chest to chest. His cheek brushes Ricky’s and Ricky turns his face so they can kiss. Chris moans, surprising him. Ricky tentatively puts his hands in his hair, kissing him deeper. Chris groans again, fucking into him harder making the table rattle. Ricky puts his hands onto his shoulders, moaning when Chris’ cock drags over a particularly good spot. 

‘Fuck,’ Chris grunts, pulling back to pant into Ricky’s mouth as he thrusts his hips. Ricky can feel his breath on his lips and his gut is heavy with heat. He kisses Chris' lips again. Chris licks the roof of his mouth and something in Ricky snaps taut and he comes, gasping.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Chris growls, working him through. Chris lets him go, moving his hand back to jerk himself, rough and quick, dark eyes on Ricky’s chest. Then he exhales and comes across Ricky’s stomach and chest with a mumbled fuck. 

They’re silent for a moment both panting. 

‘Fuck,’ Chris says, sitting up and climbing gingerly off him. He straightens up and zips his jeans, shrugging off his bloody lab coat and handing it over to Ricky who’s stumbled to his feet as well. Ricky quickly pulls on his underwear and shoes and wraps the jacket around him, leaving the gown on the floor. 

‘I’ll take you to get your shit,’ Chris says, ‘the other’s should be pretty much done by now.’ Ricky nods and lets Chris lead him out of the room into the one with the bodies. 

‘There’s no one in here, right?’ Ricky asks, suddenly concerned they might have had more voyeurs than the manikins. 

‘No,’ Chris grins, winking. He leads Ricky out and up a flight of stairs. 

‘You got anyone who’s going to ask questions about the fake blood on your dick?’ he says as they climb another set of stairs. Ricky snorts at the question. 

‘No,’ he says, ‘you?’ 

‘Nope,’ he says, then smirks pointing Ricky towards the right-hand corridor, ‘you meet all your guys at haunted houses?’ 

‘Yeah, I came on the fucking haunt with the express purpose of hooking up,’ Ricky says, rolling his eyes. Chris laughs. Ricky can see the entrance now. The guy with green hair and another of the lab coats are waiting. 

‘Dude, I thought you’d fucking killed him,’ the lab coat says when they get close. Ricky can feel their appraisal of him in the half-dark of the entrance and is grateful the fake blood all over the coat conceals any other stains that might be there. 

‘Your clothes and stuff are on the bus,’ the green-haired guy says, nodding towards it and Ricky hurries past. He pulls on his clothes quickly, though no one seems particularly interested in him. Six back already, four are crying, one is so covered in fake blood they’re having trouble blinking without their eyelids getting stuck and one is curled in the fetal position with a thousand-yard stare. 

Ricky slips off the bus to wait outside in the cool night air. Chris is lent on the bumper. Ricky goes to sit next to him, palms tingling. 

‘So, I kind of already have your number because I do all the emails and shit,’ Chris says, very quickly twisting his hands. 

‘Yeah?’ Ricky says, confused. Chris glances at him, then drops his gaze again.

‘I wanted to ask if it would be okay to call you on it sometime and maybe we could go for coffee or um, a drink — I mean I don’t drink, I mean obviously I drink water and stuff but not like _drink_ drink — but I could drink something and—’

‘I drink coffee,’ Ricky says interrupting him and smiling. 

‘Cool,’ Chris says, nodding. ‘You’re hot,’ he adds after another moment’s thought.

‘Thanks,’ Ricky says, grinning in spite of himself. They lapse into silence and Chris reaches over to rub his wrist where it’s sore from the cable tie. From the abandoned hospital a disembodied scream echoes.

**Author's Note:**

> May have taken some liberties with the theme..
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A knife to the throat will leave more than a scar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045301) by [thisplace_ishaunted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/pseuds/thisplace_ishaunted)




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